


Stick The Kettle On

by IvyPrincess



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Developing Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Radio, Slow To Update
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:41:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23916208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IvyPrincess/pseuds/IvyPrincess
Summary: For Jeno and Jaemin, the university radio has been a source of comfort since it first started.For Renjun, the radio station has been his happiness.Or, when comfort and happiness are no longer just emotions, but people, too.
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Lee Jeno/Na Jaemin
Comments: 6
Kudos: 25





	Stick The Kettle On

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sunsetude](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunsetude/gifts).



The red “ON AIR” sign flashes neon at him, and Renjun takes a deep breath, leaning forward to speak into the mic. “Welcome back to another session of Stick the Kettle On,” he begins softly, conscious of the time of night before continuing in a slightly louder voice as he remembers he’s in a soundproofed studio. “As always, you can call me RenD, and I’ll be your host for the evening, if we can still call it that.” He chuckles, glancing at the clock that blinks back at him with a time past midnight.

His spiel is well-rehearsed, weeks of habit prodding the words smoothly off his tongue. “For those of you who haven’t joined us before, you can submit any questions or comments you have to the university website, and I’ll pick out a few to read and answer in between some chill songs I found the other day. Whether you’re looking for advice or new music to add to your study playlist, pull up a chair and a mug and let’s all do our best to encourage each other!” Renjun smiles cheerfully, even though no one else is around at this time of night to see it. “Let’s start the night off with an old favorite, shall we?” He scrolls through his playlists for the night until a well-worn pop song bubbles from the speakers.

This little radio show of his had originally been his professor’s idea. The department needed a live host for the graveyard shift, and it just so happened that Renjun had foolishly accepted an extra credit assignment without actually asking what he would be doing to earn those extra points. He was a history major, for goodness sake, what did he know about broadcasting? But Renjun really did need the grade boost for the surprisingly difficult elective class, and his professor’s desperation meant she didn’t much care _what_ he decided to do as long as he was in the studio every other night.

The first few times, Renjun really had just hooked up some of his regular study playlists to the broadcasting station and worked on his papers, but his tastes in music had garnered enough interest from the student body that he felt compelled to acknowledge the steady stream of comments and requests rolling in from the school website. Really, you’d think that none of these people had ever heard a spot of good jazz before. 

Eventually, people started sending in their own requests, which led to more detailed comments and questions, evolving further into people asking for advice on a wide variety of topics, from relationships to academics. Renjun was probably unequipped to really say anything, being just as broke and single and stressed as the students who sent questions in, but people seemed to like his snarky yet kind commentary well enough, so he just… kept it up. Renjun is proud of how far he’s brought this experience in just a few weeks, and he’s considering doing it again next semester if he can. He’s gotten attached to his loyal commenters, and the quiet nights of music and anonymous interaction are a welcome distraction from the drudgery of his schoolwork. Renjun finds himself more often than not looking for new music he can play on the station.

As the song fades out, Renjun reluctantly rises from the depths of his reminiscing to tug his headphones back over his ears and lean in toward the mic again. “And that was Needy, which was the… fourth time user nanananana has suggested an Ariana Grande song this week,” he teases lightly. Renjun leans in to squint at the screen. “Did you lengthen your username _again_?”

* * *

The pink-haired boy shoots his roommate a gleeful grin. “Pay up, Lee Jeno,” he crows triumphantly, jabbing a pencil in his roommate’s direction. “I told you he’d notice!”

Jeno huffs loudly, breath scattering stacks of carefully-organized notecards. “Fine,” he grumbles but gets up promptly enough to rummage through a drawer and chuck a chocolate bar at Jaemin’s face. “Now get back to studying.”

“Anything you say, darling,” Jaemin coos back, sickeningly sweet as he grabs another textbook off the coffee table. He’s quickly immersed back in his notes, oblivious to the way Jeno’s cheeks redden at the casual pet name.

They’re childhood best friends, bonded for life since the moment they laid eyes on one another and Jaemin tugged at his mother’s shirt, asking if Jeno was the new pet he had been promised. It only made sense that they would room together in a small but manageable studio apartment. It’s the kind of place where you live not side by side but almost on top of each other, and the inseparable pair have long since adapted to maneuvering around each other in a tiny space.

Because their bedroom barely has enough space for the two twin beds crammed within (Jeno being too much of a coward to suggest replacing them with a single larger mattress, despite the two always sharing a bed for sleepovers back in grade school), they always end up studying together in the living room, Jeno sprawled out on the floor drowning in a moat of his physics notes, Jaemin’s long legs dangling off the end of the couch overhead, the only sounds in those long nights coming from the pink-haired boy’s nimble typing. 

It’s bittersweetly domestic, almost enough to satiate Jeno’s cravings of overstepping their platonic boundaries.

Jaemin’s always had a habit of picking up strays, as Jeno himself had once experienced, and the same still holds true when he comes home one day with a bulky antique radio, eyes alight and an excited smile stretched over those prominent cheekbones. Really, they have no room for something like this, especially if it’s broken, but Jaemin’s always been good at tinkering, and Jeno’s always been good at giving in.

The radio, lovingly dubbed Fluffy in lieu of the cat their landlord wouldn’t let them have, is a welcome addition to their quiet nights, burbling with old classics and jazz riffs that fill a silence Jeno would otherwise be tempted to confess his true feelings in.

Neither of them had ever listened to much instrumental music before discovering this station, as Jeno preferred hip-hop’s rhythmic beats, and Jaemin never stopped blasting outdated pop songs, but the soft percussion under a suave sax solo was much less distracting than either of their personal tastes. They had come to a silent agreement that by the time midnight rolled around, Jaemin would have brewed them mugs of hot tea, while Jeno unplugged their TV from the extension cord to make room for their laptop chargers, the curse of a tiny space with fewer outlets. 

By the time a lone piano melody began to croon at them from the speakers, Jaemin and Jeno were already buried in their respective studies. It’s a spot of comfort in their otherwise hectic lives, a quiet space they could don like a well-worn pair of slippers.

They run late one night, Jeno stuck on campus waiting for the bus after a long review session, Jaemin curled up on the couch, lonely under a throw blanket, loathe to start working without his roommate. It feels tantamount to sacrilege, partaking in their shared habit without his best friend there by his side. 

By the time Jeno’s changed out of his rain-drenched clothes and Jaemin’s reheated dinner, they’re both too tired to do much of anything productive. But the music has always soothed them, and tonight should be no different, right?

What greets them when they finally turn the radio on, though, is not a contemplative trumpet refrain, but a voice they’ve never heard before.

“...the song that just finished playing was called Canned Heat by Jamiroquai.” The speaker is noticeably shy, each syllable tripping over the next in a male tenor as comforting to listen to as the music he usually streamed, because who else could it be but the host himself? “Thank you all for the nice comments on the school website,” he continues. 

“As you can probably tell, I’m not used to broadcasting like this.” He lets out a self-deprecating laugh, but his voice is gaining in strength and confidence, and the roommates are both entranced by the unexpectedness of it all. “There were just so many questions about what the songs I stream are called,” he continues. “I know how hard it is to look up songs without lyrics, so I’ll try to do a better job of telling everyone the names of each song. I really didn’t think so many people would be listening,” he confesses. When he speaks again, it sounds like there’s a smile on his face.

“Thanks again for the sweet comments, it’s really nice to know that my favorite songs are keeping everyone company in their long nights. Please take care of me!” With that final statement, a smooth beat restarts, and although Jeno and Jaemin wait with bated breath, the station plays nothing but music for the rest of the night.

It was quite interesting, really, how such a small change could spark such interest in both of them. In their first foray through the website, they’re both taken aback at how frequently people comment and the amount of enthusiasm they show.

“Maybe… maybe we should leave our own comments,” Jaemin muses thoughtfully. “We listen to his music all the time after all.” Jeno hums in agreement, already navigating through the website.

It becomes a new game, almost, to see who can get the most laughs out of that strikingly endearing radio host. Jeno’s preferred weapons of choice are puns, each more terrible than the last, whereas Jaemin prefers to flirt, pick up lines cheesy enough to not be taken seriously, but with an underlying intent nonetheless. It’s playfully thrilling, listening to RenD’s voice rise in pitch and tone while mock-complaining about two certain anons who need to stop before he dies of cringing, please, he’s begging. Their little apartment is filled with laughter more often than not these days, interspersed by shy glances that start to mean a little more, too.

* * *

On Renjun’s end, the sleep deprivation starts feeling worth it, even if he’s never been the biggest fan of coffee. People seem to enjoy hearing his voice as much as they look forward to his songs. For a short time, his identity even became a hot topic on the school-wide forums, with wild speculations ranging from a local pop star to a young assistant professor. He snorts, quietly amused, but they make for an entertaining night as he finally addresses all the rumors.

“Yes, sadly, I’m _not_ actually a foreign prince here to study abroad,” Renjun announces, watching the rapid-fire burst of comments coming in the live chat. “And sorry, but I won’t DJ for the Kappa party this weekend.” He pauses for a moment, digesting. “You guys, I listen to _jazz_ ,” he deadpans. “That’s a _frat party_.”

He continues scrolling absently, answering various questions that people had submitted between songs. “No, I don’t plan on telling everyone who I am. I don’t want the attention. Yes, I do actually go here, I’m not breaking in to the station for fun. Alex wanted a shout-out, hi Alex. Can I play another Ariana Grande song?” He squints closer at the screen. It’s one of his regulars, the one whose username got longer night by night until it hit character limit. 

Renjun sighs, giving in anyways, because he’s always had a weak spot for the pick up lines, because there’s something nice about knowing someone’s constantly coming back to interact. “Fine,” he relents, “but this one’s the last of the night, and then I’m pulling out some new lo-fi tracks I found the other day.”


End file.
